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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23565073">Alchemy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/resolutioninclockwork/pseuds/resolutioninclockwork'>resolutioninclockwork</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Musings on perfume, Romantic Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:07:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,133</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23565073</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/resolutioninclockwork/pseuds/resolutioninclockwork</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my first work in this fandom - please be gentle!</p><p>This bug bit me weeks ago, and I just couldn't shake it loose. More mood than plot, I think. Hope you enjoy. :)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>84</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Alchemy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It took him months to figure out how he could always judge her mood so easily. </p><p>Every day she wore a different perfume, and it somehow always matched her mood. In the space between conversations, the debriefs and late night take-out dinners around a conference table, he’d subconsciously connected each scent with an aspect of her mood.</p><p>Citrus scents were always positive and optimistic, layered with sugary sweet or tangy notes to indicate the level of excitement. Contemplative days brought out softer scents, like lavender and black tea with cream. Bad days were muskier, with dark florals, tobacco, and sometimes a delicate waft of rum. </p><p>It became something of a game to him, trying to delve deeper into the nuance of her daily choices. Some days it felt almost like a game, like she was purposely challenging him with the complexity of the notes, but he had no indication that she knew he’d noticed at all. In fact, no one ever mentioned her perfume at all, and he had to wonder if he was the only person who’d picked up on it. That felt odd, he thought - either he was unusually observant, or verging on the slightly creepy. He decided to keep his mouth shut about it, just in case. </p><p>That is, until she started showing up as they were leaving for missions. </p><p>That scent was straight up worry. Metal and smoke and ozone, with teeth that tugged at something deep inside of him. She did her best to hide her anxieties from the others, and she was mostly successful. To him, though, she was a blinking beacon of anxiety. He wished he could say something to her, but he never could come up with something to say that wouldn’t tip his hand or put her on the spot. </p><p>He left it that way for a while, and he thought she’d started getting a bit more comfortable. Well, maybe not comfortable - accustomed, maybe? They’d had several brief chats on the pad as the team loaded up, and she seemed to be settling in to the process. </p><p>One day, she showed up with another layer to that anxious scent. He lingered slightly, asking for clarification on something he didn’t really need explained just so he could spend a few more moments trying to identify it. Befuddled, he gave her a small wave as he turned to board. </p><p>It wasn’t there the next time. He searched for it, actually working his way into the same elevator as they left the landing pad. He’d been quietly thrilled to have the opportunity to try and figure it out, since he wasn’t on the roster this trip - but it just wasn’t there. Nor was it the next time, and he missed it slightly as they shared another elevator ride  back to the lower levels. </p><p>To his utter confusion and mild frustration, it appeared again the next time he got on the jet. And the time after that. No show on the following mission, which he noticed again as they fell into the routine of sharing an elevator ride after departure. </p><p>It wasn’t until they were prepping for a particularly challenging mission that he figured it out. Someone had tossed out the word the day before, and it clicked - <i>amber</i>. Warm, deep, and slightly spicy, slipping between the sharp edges of metal and ozone. It wasn’t exactly sweet, but it felt sweet as he breathed it in - and oh, could he breathe it in when she hugged him and told him to come back in one piece. She squeezed him tight, and he let himself think that it was just a bit tighter than the hugs she’d bestowed on the others. He could still feel her warmth in his arms and the rich resin in his head as they sped off.</p><p>——</p><p>He wasn’t exactly conscious when they got back, which gave him the unexpected blessing of waking up surrounded by the sharp shards of amber-metal-ozone and warm fingers running through his hair. She was leaning over him, speaking softly in words his blurry brain couldn’t quite sort through. The beeping of medical equipment broke through the haze, though, and he slowly pieced together exactly where he was. </p><p>The instant he started to stir, she pressed a quick kiss to his forehead - oh, soft lips - and darted away to shout down the hallway. She was back before he could complain too much, though, and he smiled as her hands wrapped around one of his. </p><p>“You know, you smell like amber.” <i>Great. Not exactly smooth, Rogers.</i></p><p>“You noticed?” She blushed - blushed! - and he wondered exactly what that meant.</p><p>“’Course I did. I like it.” He cleared his throat to give himself a beat to think, and almost instantly found a cup of water pressed into his hand. He took a sip, then smiled at her. “You always smell good, Darcy.”</p><p>“I’m glad you think so.” She nudged the cup at him again, and he chuckled as he took another sip. </p><p>“I’m gonna ask this, and if it’s stupid please blame it on the lump on my head. Is the amber for me, Darcy? You only wear it when I go out.” He could feel his ears burning, and he couldn’t quite bear to look up at her. </p><p>“Would you be mad if I said it was?” The hesitation in her voice made him start, and he looked up to find her gaze locked on the plastic cup - and the place where her fingers slipped between his as they both held it. </p><p>“Now how could I be mad at somethin’ like that? Means you’re thinking nice things about me, I think.” He gently nudged the cup towards the table, and she took it from him to set it down. When she faltered with her empty hand, he reached out to brush his fingers gently against her wrist. “Am I wrong? If I misread…”</p><p>“No! No, you’re not wrong.” She blinked up at him, and the look of hope on her face felt like that amber washing over him - warm, deep, and spicy as it filled cracks and dents he didn’t like to think he still carried. He was overcome, in a way that felt like finding level again when you didn’t realize you’d been off-kilter. </p><p>“Darcy…”</p><p>The nurse bustled in, bringing with her the rest of the waking world. Darcy didn’t leave, though - merely stepping out of the way as he was poked and prodded and checked over. She met his gaze, and he felt that warm glow pulse under his skin. Something had changed, something both small and immeasurably huge, and he wondered if he’d ever be able to understand the alchemy she’d worked on him. Then, as she smiled bright as sunshine at him, he realized he didn’t actually care. </p>
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